I am 31. I stood in the dressing room at J Crew today and started... inspecting. (Don't you all do that? That "Hey, while I am in this really bad light squeezing my cheesy thighs into this pencil skirt built for co-ed's body, why don't I stand here and look at all the things that might be wrong with me" once-over.)
Today it wasn't 2 or 6 or 16 gray hairs. It was a patch of grey up top... like they were assembling to plan the coup. Fuckers.
So whereas I used to color my hair to, you know, darken it a bit, keep it from being so mousey, coloring my hair is now officially yet another JOB that I have. Just what I needed.
I recently started using Clairol Perfect 10, which is perfect for me, since I HATE GOING TO THE SALON. You can do the whole deal in the shower instead of that horrible 25 minute wait with the shit dripping all over the place. Magic. Seriously.
For the record, when my hair gets as gray as the woman in the photo, I will do as she does and just rock it. Cuz that is magnificent hair. And it will be mine one day, this I know. (Thanks, mom.)